


comatose, tell me lies

by voided_space



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abduction, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Blood, Body Modification, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Choking, Cock Warming, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Force-Feeding, Hypnotism, Imprisonment, M/M, Mindbreak, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Predator/Prey, Punishment, Rimming, Rough Sex, Self-Lubrication, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Teratophilia, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Transformation, dtao3, monster dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28393203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voided_space/pseuds/voided_space
Summary: [Please read tags and warnings!]“Very well,” It said after a moment, sounding like it was smiling. Why did the sound send a shiver down George’s spine, the dread from before seeping slowly into the back of his mind? “You can stay for the night, no charge necessary.”All George needed was a place to shelter while travelling. He didn't suspect that the old ruined temple deep in the forest wasn't quite as abandoned as he first thought, nor that its inhabitant would take such a liking to him...
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 100
Kudos: 736





	1. my eyes have faded into sleep

**Author's Note:**

> title from comatose by the brinks, which is basically the theme song for this fic lmao
> 
> i got the idea for this fic the same way i get many of my ideas: at work. there isn't nearly enough monsterfucking content in this fandom, and as a dedicated freak with a love of monsters i thought i'd do the job of providing it myself. so here you go! there will be more chapters to come. enjoy <3
> 
> the design for monster!dream is on my twitter here: https://twitter.com/M0N5TER_COCK/status/1343700669438578688

It was his own decision to up and leave to start anew somewhere far from his hometown, George thought ruefully, as he trudged through the mud and rough undergrowth of the forest. It was his own decision and he'd have to live with it. His shirt clung, sticky and uncomfortable, to his skin in the humid air and thorns and vines scratched at and irritated his ankles even through the thick material of his trousers and socks. He glanced up at the steadily darkening sky through the leafy canopy overhead and his brow furrowed. He’d have to find some kind of shelter for the night soon, he didn’t much fancy the idea of getting caught off guard by bandits or wild animals in the dead of night. He had no semblance of an idea where the next village might be, he was getting tired, and fatigue and aches were plaguing his joints and muscles. His back and shoulders were weeping at the weight of his backpack, and George sighed as he considered the possibility of just climbing up into a tree and attempting to camp out the night.

He’d grown sick of his old life, the small houses and cobble paths of his hometown becoming a tired sight after so many years living there, and any friends he used to have there having moved out long ago to seek out adventure in the bigger port city across the ocean. George had waved them off with a bittersweet smile, already knowing he likely wouldn’t see them again. He was happy for them, but he didn’t exactly feel much desire to follow them. He wanted out of the confines of his old life, sure, but he wanted to go the opposite direction. He wanted to dare to venture out across the wilderness and over the mountains that he could barely see from the window of his old house. There was nothing left at home for him anymore, and George wanted to explore. He wanted the freedom of new experiences, the adrenaline of running away, the thrill of not knowing what he’d see next. He’d watched the clouds of many a storm roll dark and low over the thatched roofs of the village and he’d wished to follow their path, to fly on his feet through the long thin grass of the plains like the wild beasts, and to crawl through the underbrush, and to meet new people and see new magic and to live a life so incredibly different from that he’d been living before. And so he’d left.

George laughed, tired and bitter, as he yanked his foot free of a tangle of vines. How long had he been travelling for, now? He was beginning to grow tired of it. He’d had the new experiences he had been so desperately craving, but the realisation had hit him not that long after he’d left that while he’d been longing for a new life, constant travel definitely wasn’t it. Perhaps he’d have to look for a new job or something in the next village he came to, perhaps he’d have to focus on settling down once again. He gave a weary smile. Perhaps, somewhere, he’d find someone worth sticking around for.

Just as George was beginning to seriously consider slumming it in an old fox den or something for the night, something caught his eye nestled among the trees ahead. Some kind of ruin, an old temple maybe? The mossy stones rose above the thicket and provided a glimmer of hope for George in the form of what looked like a half-crumbled archway leading into the ruin. Sweet, sweet shelter. He sighed with relief at the prospect of refuge against the elements, and stumbled sluggishly forward. The sun finally slipped behind the trees and off below the line of the horizon as George made it to the overgrown stone steps leading up to the ruin, and he dragged his weary bones upwards, collapsing against the cold wall once he made it inside.

He heaved a long, deep sigh, stretching his legs out and rummaging in his pack for a torch. The ruin was mired in blackness, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark George was able to glance around, checking briefly for any obvious danger before he dared strike a light up for his torch. The place was almost silent, only the quiet rustling of the trees outside seeping through the door to reach his ears. George could just make out the shapes of vines and other foliage weaving between the rough stone bricks of the wall, creeping along the floor to fall downwards into... A pit? Squinting through the dark, George tilted his head with confusion as he realised what he was sitting on was more of a ledge of sorts, with the floor eventually falling away into a large square pit in the centre of the room.

Lighting his torch and holding it up in front of him, George inched forwards, shuffling carefully across the cold rock to peer over the edge of the floor into the pit. It thankfully didn’t seem to go that far down, the light from his torch mercifully reaching the bottom and spilling out onto what looked to be another floor; another section to this temple. The edges of the lower floor were still shrouded in shadow, the glow of the torch flame not reaching much further than the middle. How far did it go? Was there anything down there?

Suddenly struck with an ominous feeling of apprehension, George shuffled backwards rather quickly, clutching his torch with a white-knuckle grip and keeping his breath trapped in his chest until his back hit cold brick once more and he slumped against the wall. This… This was enough. He could stay here for just one night. He’d stay here, in this spot, and he wouldn’t go anywhere near the pit or the lower floor, and he’d leave in the morning and carry on his journey and he’d let this weird old ruin keep its secrets to itself.

That was the plan, anyway.

_“What are you doing here?”_

The voice was deep, a rumble similar to a growl, and George froze. Was there someone else here after all? He whipped his head around frantically looking for the source of the voice, but there wasn’t anyone else he could see here. In fact, as the voice spoke again, George realised with a dawning sense of dread that he couldn’t even tell where the voice was coming from, it seeming to reverberate around him and bounce off every wall in this place.

_“Did you expect no one to live here?”_

I mean, pretty much. It was a ruin after all. Still, George reckoned he shouldn’t say anything that might be seen as disrespectful by whatever vaguely threatening entity happened to live in this dingy old crumbling temple. He kept the grip on his torch firm, drawing his bag closer to his body and trying to steady his breathing as he replied.

“I apologise for intruding if this is your home,” He began, managing to keep his voice calm despite his heart beating at a million miles a minute. “I just need shelter for the night, I promise I’ll leave in the morning. I won’t steal or damage anything here,” He swallowed down his nerves, glancing down to his bag. “I- I don’t have much to offer in return, I can only ask for your hospitality. Just one night, please.” George usually didn’t like to beg, but he was desperate not to have to venture out into the hostility of the forest again.

The voice went quiet, like it was pondering over his words.

“Very well,” It said after a moment, sounding like it was smiling. Why did the sound send a shiver down George’s spine, the dread from before seeping slowly into the back of his mind? “You can stay for the night, no charge necessary.”

“Th- Thank you.” George managed. “I really appreciate it.” His heartbeat was beginning to steady, and he cautiously reached into his pack for his blanket, preparing to try to get at least somewhat comfy enough to sleep for the night.

“Mm,” The voice sounded at least slightly less threatening than it did before. It was still deep and had an edge of something not entirely human, but the harsh growl was gone, no longer striking fear deep into George’s soul. “What’s your name? I’m curious.”

It was making conversation now? George was surprised, but it wasn’t really unwelcome. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a conversation with anyone that wasn’t just some quick trade bartering in a village. It would be nice to talk to someone, even if it was in a creepy ruined temple in the woods where he couldn’t actually see who his conversation partner was. “I’m George,” He said, his initial fear slipping away with each minute he wasn’t being attacked or robbed. “I’ve been travelling for a while and happened to find this place while trying to make my way through the forest. What’s your name?” He glanced around once more. “And where are you, for that matter? I can’t see you at all.”

The voice laughed, a low rumble that surprisingly didn’t freak George out as much as it perhaps should have done. “I don’t like showing myself to strangers much, not at first anyway. I’m known as Dream.”

“Dream, huh?” George chuckled. “That’s not a name I’ve heard before. It sounds nice though! I like it.”

“You’re cute.”

George’s eyes shot open. “Huh?”

It laughed again. “You heard me. I think you’re cute.”

“You can see me?” He glanced around again, scanning his eyes over every corner of the room, but, like before, finding nothing. Was it on the lower floor?

“I can see everything in here. I’m looking at you right now.”

George laughed nervously, frantically trying to think of some way to respond to that very ominous statement, mind still battling his confusion over being complimented so unexpectedly.

The voice continued. “Do you want to know why people call me Dream?”

“I- What?”

George’s nose was suddenly hit with a strangely sweet, rich smell, like honeysuckle or fruit. Confused, he looked around the room for the source of the scent, breathing it in all the while and savouring how nice the smell was after so long of smelling nothing but grass, mud and his own sweat. He was enjoying it so much, in fact, that George didn’t notice how sleepy he was getting all of a sudden. At least, he didn’t notice until the edge of his vision started to darken as his eyes slipped shut. “Dream? Is that smell coming from you?” He managed to mumble.

“Sleep well, Georgie…”

George didn’t even have time to register the use of the nickname or the darker tone in the voice before his limbs became heavy, drowsiness overtook him and he slipped into the depths of sleep.


	2. falling away into the dead of the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, the second chapter! george finally gets to see who he's been talking to ;)
> 
> thanks for being patient guys! i've had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and i hope you have just as much fun reading it <3

George cracked his eyes open, slowly adjusting to the bright glowing green light that instantly assaulted them. He pressed them shut again with a wince, bringing a hand up to rub his face, groaning at the fuzzy feeling still clouding his head. What happened? He sifted through his hazy memories for a moment. Forest… Nighttime… Ruin, shelter, voice. Dream? Wait, was he still..?

George finally managed to open his eyes, a relieving darkness greeting him this time, though he could see the cold floor underneath him and the walls opposite dimly lit somehow by an eerie green glow. George did a quick mental check of himself. Yep, he still had all four limbs. No aches or pains, no new ones anyway. His back and shoulders still hurt, and the way they were currently pressed into the unforgiving rock floor was definitely not helping. At least he wasn’t physically injured otherwise.

He was, however, very aware of another problem. His cock was achingly hard, pressing insistently against the front of his trousers and leaving George uncomfortably hot, not helped at all by the humidity of the night air. At least it was slightly cooler here in the ruin than it was outside in the forest. He was still in the ruin, right?

George shifted to make the move to sit up, but halted with a frustrated groan when the friction of fabric against his cock sent a shudder through his body. He slowed down then, taking his time with his movement as he pushed himself up with his arms, settling into a sitting position and leaning back to look cautiously around the room. He didn’t see the door he had entered from, nor the silvery moonlight seeping in, nor could he hear the quiet rustling of the trees outside. George’s suspicions were confirmed as he looked up, his gaze locking onto what seemed to be the edges of the pit about 10 feet overhead. So he was on the lower floor now? Had Dream moved him there? He couldn’t exactly get out on his own, he desperately hoped the other was around somewhere. Wait, what? No, if Dream had dragged him down into the pit… But no, Dream wouldn’t do that, would he? He trusted Dream. He- What? Hang on, why was he trusting someone he only just met in a sketchy old ruin and hadn’t even seen? What was going on? Why did he-

His thoughts were interrupted as he caught the scent of fruit and flowers once again. Oh no. No, no, no no nonono- Not again. He didn’t want to be knocked out again, where might he wake up?

For some reason though, he didn’t feel drowsy this time. There was no heavy tiredness dragging him down into unconsciousness, just a sweet smell and a hot flush throughout his body, a pressure around his crotch and a knot deep in the pit of his stomach. A groan turned into a moan when he so much as brushed his hand against his erection, feeling his cock twitch even within its confines. He needed to ignore it, he needed to focus on getting out, but it was too much of a distraction. George found himself hastily shoving his trousers and underwear down, wrapping a hand around his dick with an intense desperation he’s not sure he’d ever felt before. He moaned loudly as soon as he touched himself, the contact almost too much as his nerves instantly lit aflame. He needed, he needed-

“Need some help there, Georgie?”

The voice, _Dream_ was back, the low but somewhat amused sounding rumble of his voice raising goosebumps on George’s arms and licking pleasantly at a spot somewhere deep in his brain. His head felt so hazy, but Dream’s voice sounded so good… 

“Tell me, George, what do you want?” He sounded closer than ever now, voice no longer echoing around the empty room but instead coming from somewhere in the vicinity around George, somewhere in the shadows behind him or close to his side. He could help, he- Dream could help-

“I- I want to be fucked. I need you to fuck me. Please.” The pleas escaped him so quickly that George yelped in surprise, snapping his mouth shut again as if he could shut away the very confession he’d just thrown to the wind. He didn’t- I mean, it was pretty much the truth, but why had his brain-to-mouth filter failed him so suddenly?

“Already asking so nicely, what a good boy,” Dream practically purred, suddenly directly behind George, who wanted so badly to turn around but somehow felt rooted to the floor. “I’ll come fuck you, George. You even get to see me, how lucky. Not many people do.”

“Wha-” George was cut off with his own gasp as a very decidedly _not human_ shape stepped out from the darkness behind him, grabbing George by the waist with incredibly large clawed hands and flipping him around so quickly it left him breathless. As George looked up he realised two things: one, he’d found the source of the weird green glow. And two, that the rumours in the last village he’d visited about a giant, murderous beast living in the forest might not have just been a myth, as he’d previously suspected.

The monster must have been at least 8 foot tall, absolutely towering over George and holding him with huge meaty clawed hands bigger than George’s entire head. It resembled a werewolf, almost; thick brown fur covering its entire body, barely hiding the shapes of muscles underneath, and the chilling realisation dawned on George that he wouldn’t have any chance of escaping as long as the beast was holding him. The thought flashed through his still lust-fogged mind; it could pin him down so effortlessly and take whatever it wanted from him, it could tear his throat out and rip him limb from limb, it could devour him whole, it could, it could…

He let out a shuddering breath. 

It could fuck him raw until he was left begging and screaming. And it could do it so, so easily.

The monster grinned and flicked a long slimy green tongue out to lick around its lips, and George’s eyes wandered from its mouth filled with dozens of huge, razor-sharp teeth, up over its glowing eyes and the two pairs of horns emerging from its head, and settle finally on the things that seemed to be sprouting from the creature’s back. Tentacles. Lots of them. They were thick and glowing, made of some sort of slime, something George had never seen before, and they moved like snakes, twisting around the monster’s body and creeping along the floor around it, emitting that eerie light the entire time.

George was terrified. Terrified and unfortunately still very, very aroused.

“So?” It smiled unnervingly wide, its deep purring voice closer to George than it had ever been.

“I- I don’t-”

“Oh come on now,” Its rumbling tone sounded somewhat amused. “You look a little needy there, why not let me help you out? I’ll fuck you nicely, just like you begged me to do. Or do you need a little more… Encouragement?”

George flinched in surprise as he felt something cool and slimy wrap around his ankle, pushing up underneath his trouser leg, and he glanced down to see a small mass of tentacles writhing underneath his dangling legs, reaching up towards his feet. As he stared in mild horror and fascination at the neon green appendages, a quiet hiss caught his attention, and he looked back up to be immediately hit with the overpowering sweet stench once more, stronger than ever. A wave of heat and tingling pleasure shot through his body, and the touch of Dream’s hands on his waist and the tentacle on his leg was at once all too much and all not enough. The haze clouding his mind was tinted neon green, and suddenly all doubts that George had were thrown to the wind. It couldn’t hurt, could it? Dream would take care of him, he hadn’t eaten him or torn him apart yet. He’d fuck him nicely, and then George wouldn’t feel so desperate, so needy, so- so…

“Yes! Yes please, Dream I- I need you, please… You can- You can fuck me.”

“I knew you’d come around. I’ll make you feel so good Georgie, I promise. Let’s get those clothes off now, shall we?”

Yes… Yes, of course he needed to take his clothes off. George nodded hurriedly, reaching down from within Dream’s grasp to untangle his trousers, kicking them off his legs and watching with rapt fascination as the tentacles grabbed them and threw them off to a far-flung corner of the room, then immediately coming back to curl up around his feet and ankles once more; not pulling or squeezing, just resting there, a comfortable weight moving with George’s legs. Dream huffed out what sounded a lot like a laugh at George’s enthusiasm, and George felt the beast’s grip on his waist loosen slightly as one of the hands moved to grab the hem of his shirt, tugging at it for a moment before Dream grinned again, his eyes narrowing.

“I mean… We don’t need this anyway, right?”

And with one swift swipe of a sharp claw, George’s shirt was torn in two, the fabric falling away from his body and into the clutches of the tentacles below him. George gasped at the blatant display of strength, and felt a shiver run down his spine as those hands and claws settled once more on his waist, a soft moan escaping him at the way his skin pulsed with heat under the touch.

“You’re so pretty, Georgie,” Dream leaned closer, the monster’s breath hot on George’s face and its voice echoing through the green fog still plaguing his head. “You’ll look so good on my cock. See?” He tilted his head, prompting George to turn his gaze downwards to be greeted with the sight of another flash of bright green emerging from the fur between the beast’s legs. Oh gods, was that..?

Yep, it was definitely its dick.

It was _so big._

The thought flashed through George’s mind of trying to fit the member into his ass, the sheer size of it stretching him further than he had ever dared to imagine before, and he whimpered and squirmed in Dream’s hold, a rational part of his brain trying to fight through the haze of lust and need to tell him _‘no, that won’t fit!’_

“D- Ah! Dream I don’t- I don’t think…”

But oh, the other part of his brain, the part fogged over with the scent of flowers and fruit, the part stained green with desires not entirely his own, that part was _begging_ for him to relax, to lose himself, and to stretch himself wide over that enormous length, and slide down it until the knot at the base pressed against his rim.

He shuddered, the effort of fighting through his own head wearing him down. He wanted so badly to give in.

“Hmm, well I suppose I don’t want to break you right away, where’s the fun in that? Don’t worry Georgie, you’ll get to take this eventually.” Dream nuzzled his nose into George’s neck, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick the sensitive skin there, his teeth just barely grazing it. “For now though, let’s start with something more your size.”

George only had the briefest of moments to wonder what that meant before one of the tentacles crept further up his leg, curling around his thigh and pressing its tip to the skin just below his dick, right above his hole. He couldn’t help but wriggle and cry out at the sensation of cool jelly in such a sensitive area, especially when he still felt like he was overheating in his own body. He whimpered as it moved downwards, prodding slowly but insistently at his hole, steadily oozing some kind of slime.

The feeling of vulnerability suddenly pushed through his haze, and George reached towards Dream desperately, seeking comfort of some kind.

“Shh, there’s a good boy,” Dream hushed him softly, pulling George in close and resting him against his body, held down against the thick fur with his head on Dream’s chest and that massive cock just behind him, curving up and pressing into the cleft of his ass. Dream held him there easily, one hand on his back pinning him down. His other hand brushed over George’s ass, claws so close to breaking the skin, but never actually harming him. The threat was intoxicating, and George found himself grinding down against Dream’s body, moaning at the sensitivity in his neglected dick and sobbing with desperation when Dream forced him to still, the monster chuckling at his helplessness. “You’ll get your pleasure soon, darling. Relax for me”

Darling. Why did the pet name send such a warm fuzzy feeling fluttering in his stomach? The situation was far from romantic; he was in a gloomy, decrepit old ruined temple deep in the woods, about to be fucked out of his mind by a gigantic man-eating beast, yet George’s blurry mind clung to the fact that the monster just called him _darling._

The tentacle from before returned, slipping past Dream’s cock to tease at George’s hole once more before finally, _finally_ slipping inside. The slime seemed to act as a natural lubricant, and it squeezed inside easily, steadily getting thicker as it pushed in past the tip. George moaned loudly, fisting his hands into Dream’s fur and bucking his hips, pushing back against the tentacle. It filled him beautifully, pressing up against his walls and pulsing, writhing against his insides in an unnatural but insanely pleasurable way, leaving George panting as it brushed over his prostate and sent shockwaves through his body.

“Dream that feels so- Ah! S-so good, please, please more, I- Hhhng… I- I’m so hard it hurts, Dream please-” He sobbed as a second tentacle suddenly pushed in alongside the first, starting small at the tip but widening out even more than the other, stretching George around their combined thickness.

“I know George, it’s okay,” Dream’s voice dropped lower again; something else present in his tone, something between the lines that George had no hope of deciphering, not with his ass stuffed full of tentacles and his head a cloudy mess, his surroundings and memories blurring as he focused on nothing but the way he could feel Dream’s deep voice rumbling in his chest underneath him, and the way the tentacles wriggled inside his ass. “You’re taking my tentacles so well! You’re safe here, just give in like you want to, you’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- I-” George cut himself off with a cry, curses and moans and gasps spilling from his lips as a third, thinner tentacle forced its way inside him, writhing against the others with an obscene squelching sound. Dream praised him with a light squeeze around his waist, long tongue licking out to curl under George’s chin and press against his neck, making him shiver violently.

Everything was building up, the movement of the tentacles inside George combining with the paralyzing heat and pleasure, the sweet smell of honeysuckle and fruit and the aching pressure deep in his belly, and as George whined and sunk into the pleasure, choking out sobs and moans, he was finally rewarded. The cold slickness of a tentacle slithered around his throbbing cock, wrapping around the member and squeezing gently, pulsing against his skin.

“You’re so close George, you’ve done so well. I knew you’d be perfect for this. You’ll be so beautiful once I’m finished with you. Do you want to cum, darling?”

George’s head swam. He nodded frantically, words lost to the haze.

“Good boy.”

The tentacle around him shifted, enveloping the head of his cock in cool gel, and George was gone.

He came with a loud, broken moan, hips stuttering, jerking up into the tentacle’s hold, the appendage continuing to move on his cock and milking his orgasm out of him. He whimpered and shrunk in on himself as pleasure turned into overstimulation, and the tentacles all slowly released their grip on him and slipped away, retreating to Dream’s sides and leaving George to sigh and relax into Dream’s firm hold. 

He felt tired, drained of all his energy and lightheaded, but relieved he wasn’t enduring inescapable heat and arousal any longer. His mind was definitely less foggy than it had been, his thoughts slowly slotting themselves together like puzzle pieces, but as weariness sunk through his bones he decided he’d leave the thinking for when he next woke up. This sleepiness at least felt natural, not spurred on by sweet scents of flowers and fruit, and George felt safe enough to let himself drift to sleep here. Of course, had his mind been a little clearer, instincts less clouded by pleasure and fatigue, perhaps he’d have had a second thought, been less quick to go with his sleep-addled brain’s desire to trust the very non-human arms that cradled him. As it was right now though…

“Mm, thank you Dream…” George mumbled his thanks into thick fur, a soft smile gracing his face, his eyes slipping closed.

A quiet chuckle sounded in response.

“I’ll see you when you wake up. Sleep well, Georgie.”


	3. all alone the silence echoes endlessly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // force-feeding, brief choking and hypnotism in this chapter!

_He was floating. Body weightless, he drifted. Where was he? It didn’t matter. His senses were of light, of smoke like mist, of clouds and wide open fields and water crystal clear. A faint smell, sweet like honey. A faint rumble, like the thunder over the town he used to call home. A faint glow, like fireflies above a lake or lanterns along a trail. A feeling of contentment, of comfort, of belonging. He was floating. He was floating, floating, floating…. Falling. He was falling, the air slipping past him, weightlessness slipping from his grasp. He was falling, and he didn’t know where or why or how. He was falling, falling, falling-_

George awoke suddenly with a gasp, his consciousness snapping back into place in his body and his limbs jerking involuntarily, only held back by something curled around them. He took a moment to let himself wake up fully, steadying his breathing and feeling his heartbeat slow down to its normal tempo before he glanced around, his eyes adjusting to the dim glowing light around him.

Wait.

Memories flooded back to him in a frantic rush, and George started to panic as the realisation hit him that he was still underground in an old ruined temple, in the lair of a bloodthirsty monster almost twice his size, and that he was no longer being held, sleepy and comfortable, against said monster’s warm chest. In fact, he was starting to feel the slight chill of the air against his still-naked body, his bare skin exposed and vulnerable. He tried tucking his arms in to cover himself, only to feel them restrained firmly above his head, and he looked up with a dawning horror to see tentacles seemingly emerging from the ceiling wrapped tightly around his wrists and forearms, his hands clenching uselessly in their hold. His muscles were starting to ache from the strain of being held up, and he squirmed uncomfortably, tugging at the snake-like bonds in an attempt to free himself, only for them to pull back sharply, making George yelp and flinch with pain. A glance downwards confirmed that yep, his legs were similarly pinned down, though at least he was standing on his own feet. 

George slumped a little in defeat. He had been hoping that the slime that coated the tentacles would make it easier to slip his hands out of their grasp, but the ones curled around him were just smooth, not slimy like the ones that went… Inside him last night. He felt a flush creep up his face at the memory of his ass clenching around the tentacles as they twisted and pulsed against his most sensitive spots. How- Exactly how desperate had he been to get off that he so willingly accepted the idea of being tentacle fucked? That sweet smell… How potent had it been? He had felt like his body was burning up and he was more aroused than he had ever been, and his head was so fuzzy, haze clouding his thoughts. So how did he remember it all with such clarity now? It was all still so vivid in his mind that he could almost still feel the tentacles around and inside him, the claws against his skin, the tongue against his neck. 

His blush deepened and George shook his head frantically, trying to dispel the thoughts somehow. He didn’t need to get turned on again, not when he couldn’t move and had no idea what happened or where Dream might be.

Thrashing around again, George made another desperate attempt to pull his limbs free of the tentacles that bound him, only succeeding in tiring himself out. He sagged, breathing heavily and watching in horror and frustration as the tentacles crept further down his arms, tightening around his forearms as if to discourage him from trying again to escape. What the fuck was happening?

“Dream!” He called out, hoping that maybe the beast that originally lured him here was still lurking somewhere nearby. He’d let him go, right? George hadn’t been eaten yet, so it didn’t seem like Dream was just playing with his food. So why was he still here? Why was he strung up by his arms? This must be a misunderstanding… Right?

Slivers of doubt started to creep into George’s mind as he pieced together the events of last night in his now clear mind, free of the warm, sweet honeysuckle fog that clouded it previously. Dream had said George could stay for one night. Why would he keep him trapped for longer than that? But he said that before everything else that happened, before he dragged George down here and fucked him silly until he passed out from exhaustion, before he… He… He called George darling, good boy, beautiful, perfect. Told him to give in. Told him he’d get to take his cock eventually. Did he mean..? Surely not, why would he-

“Oh Georgeee, you’re finally awake I see!”

George let out a squeak of surprise as Dream seemingly appeared from nowhere, dropping down through the hole in the centre of the room above and landing easily on all fours with a thump, looking all too wild and dangerous as he stalked slowly towards George like a predator. His grin was too wide, teeth too sharp, fur raising along his back as if in intimidation and tail flicking from side to side behind him, and it suddenly hit George that Dream looked nowhere near as comforting as he did when George was… When he was...

His brain short-circuited, thoughts cutting out as Dream crowded into his space in the dark, looming above the helpless man and raising himself up onto his hind legs once more, forcing George to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Dream I- I’m so confused, I only just woke up. Why am I tied up? What- What happened after I fell asleep?”

“Aw you’re confused? Don’t worry Georgie, I’ll explain it for you!” His tone was eerily cheerful, something more sinister clearly hidden behind his deceptive words. “You’re so cute I just couldn’t bear to eat you and say goodbye so soon. So it’s your lucky day! I’ve got other plans for you, so you get to live here instead! So anyway, after you fell asleep I made sure you couldn’t do something silly like run away or hurt yourself, then I went out into the forest to gather some breakfast for you.”

“Wait, so…” The words sank in slowly, and George struggled to focus on what they meant when Dream was standing so close, flicking his tongue out as if licking his lips. “You- You’re not going to let me go?”

Dream rumbled with a laugh. “Of course not! It’s much better to keep you here where you’re safe and I can do _exactly_ what I want with you.”

George’s blood ran cold.

“No… No, no please Dream, you have to let me go, please, I don’t-” He squirmed again, struggling against the tentacles and hearing his own voice crack in his panic. “What do you even need me for? Am I just a toy or a pet to you? I can’t- I- Please, I just want to leave now.”

“Oh I’ll take care of that, don’t you worry Georgie,” His smile was unsettling. “And to answer your question… Hmm, I guess you are kind of like a pet right now. But!” He reached forward to run his huge hands down George’s bare sides, claws dancing dangerously over the fragile skin and sending a shiver down George’s spine. “You’re going to be much more than that soon enough. You’re special to me, George.”

_Special?_

“W-what do you mean?”

“You want to know, Georgie? Want me to spoil the surprise?”

George nodded shakily, a million possibilities running through his anxious mind.

Dream leaned in, razor-sharp teeth inches from George’s head, and his voice dropped to a low murmur that terrified George in a way unlike anything he’d felt before.

“I’m going to breed you. I’m going to get you prepared, all nice and pretty and behaving so well for me, then I’m going to fuck you and knot you and fill you with my pups. I’m going to breed you, George, and you’re going to love every second of it.”

And with that, he backed away, leaving George in stunned, horrified silence with the ghost sensations of claws still against his skin.

Dream continued, tentacles emerging slowly from his back as he spoke, his voice losing its low, dark tone but not quite returning to the almost sickly sweet cheeriness of before, instead staying careful, unreadable, steady. “So, now you know what’s going to happen, I think we should get started, don’t you?”

George just shook his head frantically in response, not really trusting himself to say anything, or for Dream to not take advantage of anything he did say. He tried to shrink in on himself, but found it impossible with the way he was restrained, and could only duck his head in refusal to meet Dream’s gaze as the beast took a step forward towards him once more.

“George. Georgie. Look at me.”

No response.

“George.” Dream’s voice dropped low, dangerous again.

George’s silence was broken by a sound somewhere between a gasp and a yelp as Dream reached out to grab hold of his entire head, forcing it back easily with a grip on either side of his skull. George could feel the tickle of Dream’s fur brushing the back of his neck, and his breath came out hot and heavy against the claws pinched around his cheeks, threatening to break the skin and tear him to shreds with a single move. His head swam, and distantly he could feel something cool and smooth wrap itself around his neck. He snapped back to reality just in time to see another tentacle come up in front of his face, the very tip of it oozing with something thick and creamy-coloured. He looked at it for a second in panic, then up to Dream, questioning. 

“You’re going to open your mouth and take everything that I give you, and you’re going to swallow it all down like a good boy and be grateful for it,” Dream pushed the tentacle further towards George, pressing it against his lips. “And if you don’t open up for me, I’m going to squeeze your pretty little neck until you do.”

George whimpered in fear, feeling the pressure around his neck suddenly tighten, reaffirming Dream’s threat. He continued to press his lips shut, trying to hold out against the tentacle for as long as he could. He didn’t know what the fuck that thing was trying to feed him, and he wasn’t just going to obey the monster so easily, despite the obvious danger. 

Dream growled in warning, and George felt his neck be squeezed even tighter, cutting off his air supply entirely. He was getting lightheaded very quickly, and in fear of passing out he gave up and opened his mouth to gasp for breath.

The second he parted his lips, the tentacle seized its chance and darted forwards, shoving itself deep into his throat.

George screamed, the sound muffled as the tentacle filled his mouth, forcing his lips to widen around it. He breathed heavily through his nose, tears gathering in the corners of his closed eyes, and he shuddered violently, silent sobs racking his body. He opened his eyes to meet Dream’s gaze through his tears, and the monster just smiled, loosening his grip on George’s head to instead stroke his hair with surprising gentleness.

“You’re such a good boy Georgie. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Swallow it all now darling, you’re going to look so beautiful.” 

George gagged, choking through his sobs as he felt the tentacle push itself deeper and start pulsing, thick liquid pumping from it and slipping easily down his throat, unimpeded by his gag reflex as he was forced to just take whatever it was giving him. He shook his head weakly but the tentacle stayed lodged in his mouth, and his sobbing gave way to quiet crying as he felt his stomach fill, his hands clenching and unclenching in their bonds. He looked up at Dream again, silently begging for it to be over.

“There’s a good boy. It’s almost over darling, can you feel it starting to take effect?” He let go of George’s head to take hold of the man’s body instead, pulling George up into his arms and cradling him against his chest, the tentacles around George’s ankles releasing their grip so Dream could pull his legs up to make him more comfortable. His arms were still raised up above his head, held there securely by the tentacles in the ceiling, but George found himself relishing the small amount of comfort he was given. His body was aching, new, strange pressures beginning to form in his head and lower back, and his jaw was getting tired where it was stretched open around the tentacle still in his throat.

Eventually the tentacle slowly loosened itself from George’s neck and mouth, sliding back up and out of his throat, leaving a smear of the creamy liquid across his tongue as it exited his mouth. It tasted somewhat like cum, salty and bitter, and George hastily swallowed it down with a wince, coughing at the feeling of it sliding down his now sore throat. The pain and pressure in his lower back was spreading down to his ass, tight and uncomfortable like his muscles were cramping, and his head felt like nails had been driven into his skull. What was that stuff doing to him? 

He buried his face into Dream’s fur, exhausted from whatever had just happened, drained of tears and sore all over. His throat hurt, and his voice came out tired and hoarse as he mumbled out a question to Dream. “Why did you make me swallow that? What… What is it doing to me?”

“It’s making you ready for me Georgie, you’ll see soon enough. Anyway, you’ve been so good. You can have your breakfast now, you deserve some food to keep you nice and pretty,” He brushed one hand down George’s body, resting on his ass and squeezing the soft flesh gently. He licked his lips, a hunger of a different kind flashing in his eyes. “And healthy. I gathered you some things from the forest earlier, here, let me go get them.”

George squirmed at the squeeze of his ass, but whined softly at the loss of contact as Dream placed him back down onto the cold stone floor, the same tentacles from before immediately twining around his legs once more, pinning his feet down. He shivered at the whisper of cool air across his bare skin; he missed the warmth of the monster’s body.

Realisation hit him like ice cold water, and he began struggling against the hold of the tentacles with increased vigour. No! He shouldn’t be missing the beast that was keeping him captive, he shouldn’t be craving its touch, he shouldn’t be begging for it to come hold him close again. He should… He should want it as far away as possible, he should be thinking of nothing but possible ways to escape, to run far, far away from here and back to the safety of human civilization. He could think now! His head was clear, he could, he could…

He saw Dream turn back towards him from the far corner of the room he had been rummaging in. George could faintly make out a pile of seemingly random items over there; eating utensils, rags and clothes among scattered discarded bags and bones, and he realised with a sinking feeling in his gut that oh, those were definitely the remains and belongings of other travellers, every one of them apparently having met a fate much worse than George. As Dream came closer now, George could see he was holding a wooden bowl filled with some dark blue or purple-ish mush, and George began to panic at the thought of being force fed something else. Would it put him in more pain? Would it be drugged? He thrashed around and pulled on his restraints again, achieving nothing except tiring himself out more.

“No, no no please, I can’t do this again, please. Dream! Please I don’t want-”

Dream shushed him, placing the bowl down on the floor and moving in to hold George’s waist in one hand, and cupping his head gently with the other. “You need to calm down Georgie, I don’t want you hurting yourself. The food is just a mixture of berries and roots from the forest, there’s nothing in there to make you sick. I need you to eat, darling. Here, look at me.”

George’s chest tightened, something fluttering deep within him that he didn’t want to think about too much. Why was Dream being so gentle with him? He hesitantly turned his gaze upwards towards Dream, meeting eyes with him and being rewarded with a soft squeeze around his waist. Keeping eye contact with Dream was strange as the beast didn’t seem to have any pupils underneath the steady glow, but George soon found it difficult to look away.

“Good boy, that’s it, just keep looking at me.”

George didn’t think he could have torn his eyes away from Dream’s if he tried. Their glow had softened, making it easier to see their pale green colour, patterned with subtle intricate swirls of a darker shade and speckled with sparkles like stars. Dream’s eyes were mesmerising, and George found that staring into them became more comforting. He calmed down, tension seeping out of him. The pain that had bothered him before faded into the background, and he let himself relax, leaning more into Dream’s touch as the racing thoughts in his mind slowed to a still, retreating to the back of his head and leaving him with an easy contentment, something like a freedom within his own body. He felt like he was floating despite everything, and he relaxed into the tentacles’ hold, his muscles loosening and letting him hang there comfortably. Dream held him up easily with his grip still around George’s body, and George distantly wondered if Dream would hold him with that much care more often.

“You okay now Georgie?” Dream’s face had softened into a smile, and George nodded dumbly, his head buzzing pleasantly with a comforting feeling not unlike sleepiness. “My sweet good boy. Here,” Dream took his hand off George’s head, reaching down to scoop the bowl off the ground again and holding it up to George’s face, nudging the edge of the bowl against his lips. “Eat up, darling.”

George complied easily, willingly parting his lips, and at that moment he felt the tentacles wrapped around his arms loosen, snaking away and allowing him to pull his arms back down. He curled his hands around the bowl in front of him, one hand on top of Dream’s enormous fingers, and Dream cooed at him as he tipped the bowl forward slowly to let the contents of the bowl slip down into his open mouth. The mush was sweet and creamy, the consistency of mashed potatoes or a thick soup, and it tasted heavenly to George in that moment, exhausted and hungry as he was. He cleaned the bowl out obediently, then looked back up to Dream, the monster making a soft noise and placing the empty bowl down before pulling George up into his arms.

“Mmm… Dream m’ sleepy, I-” The words took a herculean effort to say, George’s brain fuzzy and the filter to his mouth not quite working, and he quickly gave up, opting to just nuzzle his head into the thick fur on Dream’s chest instead, grabbing weakly at the beast’s hand with his limbs feeling like they were stuffed with cotton wool instead of flesh and muscle.

“I know Georgie. Do you wanna sleep now? You can choose, do you want to sleep with me or with my tentacles?”

A choice. It was an easy one.

“You! Wanna sleep with you- Warm, soft, I- Mm.. Please Dream.”

“Of course, darling.”

Dream carried him over to another corner of the room, holding George tightly to his chest as he lay down on his back on a pile of leaves and straw, settling and getting comfortable before curling his tail up and over the both of them, the weight across his back providing George with an odd sense of satisfaction and security, only amplified when Dream draped his hand across George too.

“You’ve been such a good boy today,” Dream dipped his head to nuzzle his snout gently against George’s cheek. “I can’t wait to see you start to change for me, I just know you’ll look amazing.”

George just hummed contentedly in response, closing his eyes and snuggling into Dream, who chuckled, lightly stroking George’s back.

“Sleep well, Georgie.”


	4. on and again we settle into the high

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // transformation
> 
> i advise anyone reading to check the tags before reading, i update them before every chapter!
> 
> enjoy <3

He woke up. Slowly this time, stirring from his slumber and blearily blinking the last vestiges of sleep from the corners of his eyes, feeling steadily creeping back into his heavy limbs.

He woke up, and everything hurt.

Aches that he hadn’t even noticed the night previous now made their presence very much felt, muscle cramps in his legs and arms, and deep in the pit of his stomach. He shifted slightly and sharp spikes of pain shot up from his lower back, and George let out an involuntary whimper, curling in on himself and silently begging for relief from that and the fierce headache pounding somewhere between the front and top of his skull.

The other thing George noticed, even through his dizzying pain, was that he was alone. The straw that formed a bed below him was cool, so Dream must have been gone for a while at least, and George found himself missing the warmth and comfort of being snuggled up to the monster’s body.

He carefully pushed himself up halfway to a sitting position, wincing at the way every tiny movement made his body scream in protest before he collapsed once more onto his side, shaking with the effort and agony. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, covering his face with his hands and trying not to cry. Everything hurt, and he couldn’t tell where his body started and ended anymore. His own senses were blurred, everything aching and hazy and sensitive, his head pounding and stomach twisting, back hurting like his spine had been stretched until it had snapped in two and then been hastily pushed back together.

Everything hurt, and he was alone.

Something cold and smooth prodded at the skin of his side, and George flinched slightly before relaxing again as much as he could, slackening his tense body and allowing several tentacles to come up from the floor beneath and curl around him loosely, not pinning him tightly down like they did before, but rather just resting there with him. George appreciated feeling them there in lieu of the touch of their owner. It was odd, knowing that he wasn’t restrained right now and could probably have got up and tried to escape, but he didn’t feel able to even stand up, and was instead laying there desperately hoping Dream would return soon and help him with the pain.

George didn’t know how long he was laying there for, not with his senses so muddied in darkness and pain, time having been previously lost somewhere amongst sweet smells and glowing green and the touch of strong hands. Eventually though, the familiar faint scent of flowers and honey drifted into the room, and George cracked his eyes open in time to see Dream drop down through the hole in the roof, hands full carrying something. George made a quiet, distressed noise and reached his arms out towards Dream, and the beast turned to look at him, crouching to place down the objects he was carrying before standing up and padding softly over to the nest, gathering George up carefully in his arms and pulling him close, smiling when George clung to him like a lifeline.

“Dream where did you go? I woke up and you weren’t here and it hurts…” Tears gathered in his eyes and George let them flow freely, not holding back from crying from the pain and loneliness. “Why does it hurt so much? My back, and, and- my head, and my... My ass…”

“Shh Georgie, darling, it’s okay, I’m here now. See?” He stroked an enormous hand gently down George’s back. “I know you’re in pain, you’re doing so well. I can help you now.” He guided George’s face to his neck. “This will make it hurt less. Breathe in for me, there’s my good boy.”

George froze for a second before he relaxed and buried his face into the fur on Dream’s neck, taking a deep breath and immediately being hit full force with the saccharine smell of cherry blossom and strawberries; different from the previous scents, less intense. He continued breathing it in, letting the strange feeling of warmth wash over him, settling under his skin. It numbed the sharpest pain somewhat, leaving him much more comfortable with only the aching cramps still lingering. Some part of his conscious mind shouted its protests at how easily he gave in and accepted the drugged air into his lungs, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming relief of no longer being in agony, and he went placid in Dream’s arms as the monster hushed and cooed at him.

“Good boy! Did you see your new additions yet? They’re the reason you hurt so much.”

“Mm, no?” George shook his head, confused about what Dream meant and more distracted by the way a warmth was settling in his belly, flames of arousal flickering to life deep within him. Was it because of the scent, or was it something else?

“Look,” Dream said, shifting George’s position in his arms and stroking his hand down George’s back again, not stopping when he got to the lower back, but rather continuing down, eliciting a surprised noise from George when he felt the touch of Dream’s fingers on a part of him that _definitely_ hadn’t been there before. Dream gently pulled it out from behind him, into George’s field of vision, and petted it lightly.

George’s eyes widened.

He had a _tail._

It wasn’t very big, for now at least, but it was long enough that he could see it poking out from his back, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it until now. It was thicker at the base but thinned out as it got longer, it lacked the glowing spade at the end that Dream’s tail had, and it was coated in short brown fur, darker than Dream’s fur to match the shade of George’s own hair. He very cautiously reached out to touch it, like he couldn’t believe it actually belonged to him, and flinched back a bit when he felt the touch of his own hand through the tail.

“Wh- what..?”

“Isn’t it pretty? You look so good, Georgie. And that’s not the only thing!”

Dream grasped George’s wrist in between his thumb and forefinger, and George let his hand be guided up to his own head, where Dream pressed it carefully against… A horn? George hesitantly moved his hand around, and yes, there were now two small horns emerging from his head, peeking out through his hair. They were hard and had a smooth texture not dissimilar to his fingernails, but George could still feel himself touching them, and the sensation struck George with something between fear and fascination. He withdrew his hand quickly, staring wide-eyed at his fingers like he expected them to be changed in some way too.

“You look beautiful,” Dream hummed, nuzzling George’s cheek softly and stroking his new tail. “Of course, growing these makes you hurt, but isn’t it worth it? Just a little longer and they’ll be fully grown, and you’ll be so beautiful for me. All mine.”

George whimpered, the possessiveness of Dream’s statement sending tingles like sparks dancing under his skin. The light strokes down his tail were continuing, and the odd sensation of having a new limb had been slowly replaced by a pleasant warmth. Steadily, George came to a stinging realisation. It felt _good._ The attention from Dream kept him distracted from the aching cramps lingering in his body, and the slight pain turned into a burning sensitivity that sent shocks of arousal straight to his crotch whenever Dream’s hands brushed over a tender spot.

“Oh I do love the way you tremble when I touch you like that. It feels good, doesn’t it George? Having a tail like me? Now,” His grip suddenly tightened around the base of George’s tail and on his back, hiking the man further up his chest to rest his head comfortably on Dream’s shoulder, then holding him in place there, letting him squirm for a moment before he ceased his futile struggling and slumped against Dream again, shivers running through him whenever Dream lightly squeezed his new tail. “It’s not over yet, is it Georgie? You still need a little more to complete the transformation. So come on, open your pretty mouth for me.”

George tensed up in fear when he saw the same thick, oozing tentacle that he had been forced to choke on before once again raising itself up in front of his face, and he tried turning his head away from its advance. Dream squeezed his hands around George’s body in warning, and as he felt his tail twitch in Dream’s grip, George decided that it wasn’t worth the distress to fight against it this time. Whatever that creamy stuff was, it had already given him a fucking tail and horns. What more could it do to him? And so George slowly opened his mouth, reluctantly allowing the tentacle to slip through his parted lips and over his tongue, nestling itself deep in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and whined around the intrusion, resisting the urge to gag on it. It felt humiliating to be so helpless, to have his mouth used and filled like that with no other option. As the tentacle started pulsing and pumping more thick liquid into him, though, George found it less comforting to ponder the embarrassing nature of the situation, and more to instead focus on the way his throat bulged out slightly, the warmth in his belly sank lower and burned hotter, and his cock began to harden where it was pressed in between his own thigh and Dream’s body. It seemed Dream felt it too, because he chuckled and loosened his grip on George’s tail to instead grope at his ass, eliciting a choked whimper from the defenseless man.

“Such a good boy. It might start to hurt again soon, but it’s okay. You’re alright, I’m here with you.”

No, no not more pain. Not again. George squirmed again, eyes wide, struggling against the tentacle in his mouth and trying his best to pull his head away. He could feel his aches twinging again, intense prickling seeping into the cramping discomfort, facade of cool relief cracking like porcelain. It burned; his changed body, his new limbs. A tingling sensation like pins and needles settled around his crotch and ass, and he wriggled, unsure of whether he wanted to get as far away from Dream and the tentacles as possible, or throw himself in deep, craving closeness and pleasure and relief from the agony. 

He could feel himself slipping, and it terrified him.

George’s internal conflict was casting his tender confused emotions into disarray, and he almost lamented the loss when the tentacle feeding him finally slipped out of his throat and withdrew from his mouth once more. He flexed his jaw, feeling oddly empty. Dream petted his hair then moved across the room to where he’d left the things he’d brought in earlier, holding George effortlessly with one arm while he reached down with the other.

“Here, I got you more food and water. You’re probably hungry and thirsty by now, right? I’ll always look after you, darling, you know that.”

Did he know that? Yes. No. Of course he did? Of course he didn’t. Dream was a monster keeping him trapped here, he couldn’t trust him. But oh, he so badly wanted to. He wanted to give in, to lose himself and to trust Dream more than he trusted even his own mind. Wait, why? Why was he thinking that still? Could he even trust his own mind anymore? His head hurt. George craved the sweet haze, the one that kept him from thinking, kept him in comfort and warmth and the bliss of an empty head. He craved it. Everything hurt.

Regardless, he accepted the gentle treatment when Dream pressed the bowls of food and water to his lips, cheeks flushing a little at how he was being fawned over. He was so dependent on Dream for survival right now, it should feel demeaning, humiliating. It only felt good. 

He willingly let himself be fed.

Something tucked away at the back of his head screamed at him. This should feel deeply, deeply wrong. This was dangerous, the speed at which he was accepting and even _wanting_ and _enjoying_ this, this feeling of being wanted and doted on and taken care of and… and _loved._

He only wanted more.

It terrified him.

Dream finished feeding him and dropped the empty bowls back into the pile of dead mans’ belongings with a clatter, then scooped George’s body up in his arms, nuzzling him fondly. George shivered. He might still be sore, but every time Dream touched him it felt more soothing, reassuring, right, distracting from the pain, making a fire of a different kind burn bright and hot within him. Dream was so big. George recognised how easily Dream could crush him with his huge hands, tear him apart with his claws sharp as knives, eat him alive with teeth as long as George’s fingers. He could break him so, so easily, but he never did. He held George gently instead, pulled him close, stroked him. He handled George like he was made of glass, precious and beautiful and worth caring for, and it made George feel special, prized, made his chest flutter with something more than nerves, something light and pretty that filled George with altogether more fear than the mere threat of dying to some monster in the woods. Something terrifying.

One of Dream’s hands trailed lower down the curve of George’s back, over the smooth swell of his ass where it squeezed the smooth soft flesh, and down further, to where one finger brushed over the rim of his hole, and George let out a loud involuntary whine, shuddering and letting the lingering arousal wash over him in waves. Why was the sensation so much more intense than it had ever been before?

Dream gave a satisfied hum.

George suddenly found his upper body being dropped backwards, and he yelped in shock before he was caught by something behind him, his arms and torso being entangled in snake-like tentacles hanging down from the ceiling. They held him up and supported his weight suspended above the ground, while Dream kept hold of his legs, hands wrapping easily around each of his thighs to lift his lower body up more.

“Let’s take a look at you darling, I can already feel you’re almost there with the next part of your changes. Can you feel it yet?”

Dream dipped his head down then, spreading George’s legs a little wider and nudging his snout in between them, pressing his nose close to the skin just above George’s hole, under his balls. George shivered at the cold and slightly rough texture, but shifted his attention to the way his hole was starting to feel warm and strangely… wet. He clenched around the odd sensation and tried not to get flustered over the way the vibrations from Dream’s low chuckle travelled up through his cock.

“You can feel it now? You’re getting so slick for me Georgie,” His hot breath ghosted over George’s ass. “You smell so good.”

George tried unsuccessfully to suppress an embarrassing moan that tore out of him when he felt Dream’s tongue, hot and wet and bigger even than George’s own fingers, licking out against his rim. It felt a lot like the tentacles, smooth and slippery, but it was so _warm._ George bucked his hips trying to push into the sensation, but he was left writhing against Dream’s unrelenting grip, unable to move an inch and having to instead just take whatever was given to him.

Dream hummed and spoke again, his tone deep and seductive and downright _filthy._ “You taste delicious too.”

He licked out at George’s hole again, sending a full-body shudder through the helpless man and forcing another pretty noise to spill from his lips. Dream drank it up like water, rumbling in content and squeezing George’s thighs, rewarding the way he keened and leaned into the touch by pressing the very tip of his tongue inside George’s tight, wet heat. He steadily worked it deeper inside, going slow enough to tease, savouring George’s taste, the way he’d throw his head back as he moaned, the way his hole would tighten slightly around his tongue before leaking more slick. It mixed with Dream’s saliva, making obscene noises as Dream slowly thrust his tongue in and out, opening George up, pushing deeper with each thrust.

George was in heaven. Hands clenching and unclenching into fists, he writhed, twisting in his bonds, mewling moans and keens spilling from him with every curl of Dream’s tongue inside him. He was surrounded, drowning, enveloped in electric pleasure and that all-encompassing heat, sweat shining on the surface of his skin and nerves buzzing underneath, panting and moaning, hips stuttering and jerking against Dream’s mouth, his thighs aflame where the beast’s hands were wrapped tightly around them, claws threatening to break the skin with every slight shift. The pain was ignored now, too deeply buried beneath layers and layers of bliss. He drank it in greedily, euphoric self-indulgence leaving any conscious thought like dust in its wake. He wanted more, more, more. Sounds of sex like a symphony, he was the entire orchestra; his body sang with each caress, each lick, each brush of knife-sharp claws over smooth expanses of skin.

Dream pushed his tongue deeper, curling it deliciously against that spot inside him, and George was gone. He screamed as a violent shudder racked through him, crying shamelessly loud and pushing his hips up, begging between moans and through tears.

“Please Dream, please, please I- I need- Ah! I n-need more. M-more, please! It hurts, it hurts but- Mm… _Hhah-_ It feels so good, please, please-”

He sobbed with desperation when Dream slowly withdrew his tongue and pulled back, denying George of that final push over the edge that he so badly needed. His cock throbbed, angry and red and leaking against his own stomach.

“It feels good, hm Georgie? You want more? You’re so good, so pretty for me, so open and slick. I think you’re ready to take some of my cock now. Wouldn’t you like that? You’d love to be stretched open around my cock, filled so nicely by me. I know you’d love that, darling.”

Dream released George from the tentacle’s hold and pulled him fully into his own arms in one fell swoop, making George’s head swim. _Strong,_ his brain supplied. _Warm._ George shivered with something other than cold, tangling his fingers into Dream’s fur and rutting pathetically against his body. The pain was returning, no longer held back by hands and tongue. George clenched down around nothing, his hole leaking slick. Something deep within him cried out, something urgent and primal and not entirely his own, and he found himself mourning with it. _I need to be filled._

Dream carried him back over to the nest of leaves and straw, hushing George and cooing softly at him the whole time. He laid down on his back, keeping George huddled close on top of his chest, a mirror of their position from the day before. Was it a day before? Time wasn’t important anymore, not here, not to George, not amongst pleasure and comfort and sweet hazes of green and that all-encompassing warmth.

George revelled in the reassuring weight of Dream’s huge hand resting on his back and pinning him down once more, soaking in the affectionate petting with a dangerous amount of satisfaction. His own tail swished lazily behind him, eventually settling and curling around Dream’s leg. George wasn’t even aware he could move it. Was it longer now than it was before?

He was dragged out of his own thoughts again with a start, jerking in surprise and gripping Dream’s fur tightly when he felt the insistent nudge of something smooth and hot and very, _very big_ against his ass. He yelped and looked behind him, peeking over his own shoulder to see Dream’s cock pressing up against him, the tip of it sliding over his slick hole every time Dream shifted his hips, smearing wetness across his skin.

“There’s a good boy… You want this, don’t you? You’re in pain and you want me to help you. You want to be stretched open and filled and fucked on my cock, you want to feel me inside you, you want me to claim you as mine. Don’t you, Georgie?”

No… No, he wasn’t going to admit-

“Yes! Yes please, please Dream,” He sobbed, words laced with desperation, with pain, with longing for something he’d never had before, with the guilt and hesitation of a man who knew he wasn’t far from breaking. “Need it, need you- Inside me, please,” His cock was trapped, aching and red, in between his stomach and Dream’s body, and he rutted his hips up into the friction. “Need you, want you, please. It hurts.”

He wasn’t even drugged.

“Good boy.”

Dream smiled, gripped George tightly in his hands, and pushed him down onto his cock.

George almost passed out as he felt it start to enter him. It was painfully big, stretching him so wide; wider than Dream’s tongue, wider than any of the tentacles. It slid inside him torturously slow, Dream taking his time to adjust his grip on George’s hips before pushing him down another half an inch. And as the pressure within him finally tipped over the edge, George came, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream, shaking violently and fisting his hands tightly into Dream’s fur, scared to move at all for fear of being torn open with the sheer size of Dream’s cock. He loved it. It was unfair how much he loved it. The closeness, the intimacy, the way he could hear Dream praising him gently through the ringing in his ears, the dizzying euphoria, the desire for more thrumming under his skin. He was in rapture, lost to the pure, raw emotion of it all, the pain completely forgotten.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dream released his strong grip, moving his hands from George’s hips to instead stroke gently through his hair and down his back and tail. “You’ve taken me so well. I won’t push you any further today darling, it’s okay.”

George stole a glance over his shoulder again to where he was stretched tightly around Dream, and felt lightheaded at the sight that greeted him. He wasn’t even halfway down. It can’t have been more than a few inches inside him, and yet he felt _so full._ He turned and buried his face into Dream’s fur, whimpering as his muscles clenched involuntarily and his walls pressed down around Dream’s cock.

“Doesn’t it feel good, Georgie?”

“Mmm... Feels- Feels so good Dream, ah-” The words fell out freely in quiet gasps and breathy moans, delirious mumbling more than conscious thought. “I need it, I- I love it,” Confessions tumbling from his mouth, secrets he’d never say while sober cast out, murmured into soft brown fur. “Love the way you hold me, love how your cock fills me- Need more, always need more. I- I love how you make me feel wanted. Love how warm you are. I love- Ah, _hahh_ … S-so good.”

Dream laughed, the sound soft and light and making George’s breath catch in his throat. “You’re so pretty. All mine. Are you comfortable here, with me inside you? Let me hold you like this until you fall asleep.”

George hummed sleepily in agreement, snuggling down into Dream’s warm embrace and feeling huge arms wrap around him, pulling him in ever closer. He could stay like this forever, he thought distantly. Here, surrounded by warmth and wanting, filled with heat and endorphins and foreign desires. He cried, overwhelmed with emotion, and sunk himself deeper into Dream’s hold, cuddling close and letting his tears soak into the fur until he ran himself dry. Dream hushed and soothed him through it, gentle pets and caresses to his new tail and kisses to his new horns steadily lulling him into sleep.

Finally, George’s eyes slipped closed, and he sighed into Dream’s fur, slipping into peaceful unconsciousness with Dream’s body close to his, Dream’s arms like a blanket around him, Dream’s cock resting snugly inside him.

Dream smiled and rubbed his hand fondly over George’s head, brushing his hair carefully out of his face with a claw big enough to rip him to shreds.

“My beautiful sweet boy, I knew you were perfect for me. Sleep well Georgie.”


	5. will you say something, can you show me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 5 finally! sorry this has taken so long, but it's a nice juicy chapter so i hope you guys will be satisfied... 
> 
> thanks so much for being patient! <3
> 
> // small blood warning in this chapter!

He felt empty.

That was the first thing George noticed as he woke up, fighting his way out of the foggy clutches of sleep. He was empty, he was cold, and he was alone again. He was cradled not in Dream’s warm arms, nor even in the relentless grip of the bright green tentacles, but rather was lying curled up in the nest of straw in the corner of the dark ruin, his tail curled around him and the only light a small blue glow seemingly coming from the horns on his own head. George pushed himself up on his forearms, blinking blearily and shaking his head slightly as if to rid himself of the dreams that had plagued him.

...Dreams.

He was alone.

The room was dark and silent and George was _alone._ The beast keeping him captive wasn’t anywhere to be seen at that moment, and as George emerged from sleep and shook off the dregs of unconsciousness, his rational mind immediately snapped to the possibility of escape. It took George a moment to even process the thought, a strangely unfamiliar one. Why… When was the last time he..? 

He wasn’t drugged right now, he realised. His head was clear, unclouded by green haze and sweet smells and mesmerising eyes that sparkled like stars. He wasn’t drowning in the depths of desperate arousal, pain that made him cry out for comfort or pleasure that made him keen under nonhuman hands.

It felt so unfamiliar, so uncomfortable. He was left with nothing but his own thoughts, awareness over his own body and a strange emptiness, a loneliness that begged for him to stay there and wait until he was enveloped in a warm strong, familiar embrace once more.

George took notice, quickly shoving that urge to the back of his mind. He couldn’t let himself fall victim to a weakness like that, not now, not when he had a clear mind and a strong body and the chance to finally _think._ The chance to maybe, finally escape. He couldn’t let himself yearn for the company of a monster, one that kept him trapped here and drugged him with aphrodisiacs and shaped his body to its sick desires. Its words from the other day (The other week? The other month? Where in time did he exist, now?) drifted into his head, and filled him with cold dread.

_“I’m going to breed you, George, and you’re going to love every second of it.”_

What the fuck had Dream meant by that? Breed him? Did he mean… Surely not.

George didn’t think he wanted to find out.

He rolled over, pushing himself up to a kneeling position and mentally checking himself over for any possible pains or more new limbs before he slowly dragged himself to his feet. He stood there shakily for a moment, unused to using his legs again after being suspended from tentacles and carried around for however long. His muscles cried out in protest, but George hadn’t the time to worry about them now. He didn’t know when Dream would be back, and he didn’t want to stick around to find out.

_You’re lying._ Some part of him said. _You want him to come back, you want him to hold you. You want him to cuddle you and feed you and fu-_

“No!” George shouted out loud, shaking his head to expel the thought, surprising himself with how unsure he sounded. He covered his face with his hands, clutching at the strands of hair falling over his forehead. He couldn’t fall, he couldn’t lose himself, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself get distracted, he couldn’t let himself crave the sweet haze and the strong arms and the warm body against his own, he couldn’t let himself miss the pet names and the praise and the gentle touches and the feeling of being filled. He couldn’t.

He steadied his breathing, shoving those wandering desires to the back of his head and focusing his attention fully on the prospect of being free once more. There had to be a way up to the floor above, then from there he could leave the temple and run far away from… Everything. Whatever this nightmare was. 

Looking around in the gloom that his eyes had long since adjusted to, George’s gaze flitted over the piles of random jumbled belongings scattered across the floor on the opposite side of the room. His clothes were probably in there - his trousers, anyway, George remembered with a grimace how his shirt had been torn off - but did he have time to go rooting through everything else to find them? A lone skull half-buried in someone else’s bloodstained coat stared up at him, and George decided with a queasy feeling in his stomach that he definitely didn’t have the time. Turning his attention back to the hole in the ceiling instead, he took notice of several long vines trailing down towards him. They didn’t look particularly sturdy, but George didn’t exactly have much of a choice, did he? Making his way over to stand beneath them, he jumped to grab hold of the longest, most secure-looking vine that he could. It slipped through his fingers on the first try, a sharp offshoot scraping his hand and making him hiss in pain.

He couldn’t fail this. He tried again, managing to grip onto it the second time and dangling for a moment before dropping back down again. Okay. He could do this.

Willing his aching muscles to cooperate, George tried for a third time, grabbing hold of the vine tightly with both hands and pulling himself up off the floor slowly. It was already exhausting, but as his adrenaline kicked into gear George found himself summoning all the upper body strength he had to climb the vine inch by painstaking inch, hands raw and sweaty clinging to the plant for dear life, scrabbling for purchase on the leaves and shoots and dragging his body upwards until he could grip it with his feet too. He was shaking with adrenaline and fatigue and stopped to rest for a few seconds, panting breaths making his chest rise and fall harshly, before he gritted his teeth and began shimmying up the vine once more, finding it easier now he wasn’t relying on his hands alone.

It seemed like a painful eternity, but finally the ledge of the upper floor was within reach, and George almost cried with relief as he grabbed the edge of the rough stone and dragged himself up, straining with his own weight until he could pull his legs up, tucking them underneath him and rolling over, collapsing on his back onto the cold stone floor and struggling to adjust to the sudden light, chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths as he blinked and squinted against the daylight streaming in through the crumbling archways of the temple. How long had he been trapped in the dark?

He knew he didn’t have time to rest though, and he groaned as he got to his feet, the consequences of him pushing his body to its limits suddenly making themselves known through a myriad of new aches and twinges. With adrenaline still buzzing through his veins though, George took a deep breath and stumbled forwards, out of the ruin and into the forest beyond.

It was impossible to ignore the weight of the new horns on his head, nor the tail curling out from his back, and indeed as George’s limp turned into a jog, turned into a run, turned into a full-on sprint through the trees, he could feel the appendage behind him swishing furiously, smacking against plants and getting tangled in thickets of thorns until George grabbed hold of it and yanked it to his side with a cry of frustration. It was almost as if it responded to his emotions, confused and frantic and desperate, and as George tripped over roots and stumbled his way through weeds that caught roughly on the bare skin of his legs, he found something within him begging to turn and go back. Why was he running? Where was he going? The outside world was dangerous. Living in the ruined temple was safe, he was protected, he was looked after, he was-

_No!_ Why were these thoughts so hard to dispel? He had to get far away from here, he had to get to a village and find a healer, he had to be away from Dream and his hypnotising eyes and his addictive scent and… And his warmth…

George was cold. He was cold despite the blood pumping through his veins and the sweat trickling down his back. He was completely naked of course, so it wasn’t really surprising that he felt the chill of the cool air against his bare skin, but still…

He craved Dream’s warmth.

His feet thudded in a clumsy rhythm across the dirt and moss as he ran; small sharp stones and thorns made blood trickle from the bare soles of his feet, and stinging pain to shoot up his nerves, but it went ignored beneath the adrenaline, the fear, the frantic beating of George's heart, the quick breaths that forced their way in and out of his lungs, the deafening silence that echoed around him. He ran and ran, and his muscles screamed at him, exhaustion and the need to rest eventually overcoming his instinct to keep sprinting, to get further away.

He slowed his running to a steady halt, coming to a stop in a cluster of trees so thick their canopies blotted out most of the soft golden light that usually filtered through the leaves, leaving the area shrouded in dusk. A small stream trickled out of a rocky outcrop nearby and wound through the undergrowth past his feet, and George stared at it as he battled with himself, his body trembling.

That little part of his brain was getting louder, chants of _‘go back, go back, go back!’_ echoing in his mind; _‘Dream will look after you!’_. It was getting harder to argue with that part of himself, the part that begged for the security of captivity, the safety of the underground room in the ruin, the protection of inhumanity, the sweetness and the warmth. He was in too deep, much too deep. Freedom was right there, beyond the endless trees, he just had to make it through, had to _run, run, run._ There was nothing he wanted more than freedom. Right? His head was starting to hurt. The chanting wasn't quietening down. He had to _stay, stay, stay._ There was nothing he wanted more than Dream.

George dropped to his knees next to the stream, cupping his hands in the cold, clear water and lifting them up to his face, lapping the water up quickly. It was refreshing, a soothe to his tired body and sore throat. He could feel stones digging into his knees, but ignored them as he drank with greedy relief. At least he could be sure this water wasn’t drugged.

Or could he? He didn’t know the limits of Dream’s powers, he didn’t know how much control the monster had over this area. Who’s to say he couldn’t affect everything in this forest? What if he had drugged this stream? What if this was all part of the sick game he was playing? George couldn’t stay here, he still wasn’t safe, he couldn’t trust anything, he-

He froze, dropping his hands to brace himself on the bank of the stream. He listened.

The quiet whistling of wind. The slight rustle of leaves. Silence. Where was the birdsong?

The snap of a twig.

George didn’t hesitate, sheer terror gripping his heart as he scrambled to his feet, splashing through the stream and racing forward again, darting through the trees with a desperate, fearful urgency. Branches snapping and the much louder rustling of leaves added to the drumbeat of his heart pounding against his ribcage, adrenaline pushing him to go faster as he threw himself entirely into flight. He knew he wouldn’t have the faintest hope of surviving otherwise, but if he just focused all his energy into getting through the forest, he could maybe, just maybe-

A force suddenly collided with him from behind, and George hit the ground with a pained and terrified yelp, his knees buckling as he was shoved down hard onto his front, his face pressed into the dirt and the breath knocked out of his lungs. He gasped, dizzy from the impact, and struggled to try to lift himself off the ground again before a huge clawed hand landed on his back, roughly shoving him back down and pinning him there firmly, the claws digging into his skin harshly enough to draw blood. A growl sounded close to his ear, hot breath landing on the back of his head, and George whimpered pitifully and stopped struggling, letting himself cry instead as he gave in and accepted his fate. Dream had caught him, he’d be furious, he was being nice to George while he was behaving but now he’d probably just kill him. He should have never tried to escape.

The worst thing was that George felt _relieved._ The part of him that had begged to turn around and go back to Dream was winning out now, rejoicing in the joyful closeness to the beast, making George’s skin flush with warmth under the hold of his captor, finding comfort in the claws that bled him. He craved more, more closeness, more comfort, more sweetness and warmth. He missed not having to think. He missed the safety of the ruins. He missed being filled. He missed Dream. As much as he had tried his hardest to escape, to fight his way out of the depraved desires, all he was doing was slipping deeper. 

“That was very silly of you, wasn’t it darling?” Dream’s voice purred deeply into his ear, the tone of his voice unreadable. “Why did you try to run from me, Georgie?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry Dream! I didn’t- I…” George sobbed brokenly, heaving breaths between each word made harder by the pressure crushing down on his back and trapping his chest against the forest floor. His cries grew almost hysterical as he pleaded, sentences formed almost entirely of desperate begs and making little sense even to himself. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I- Please don’t- Please, please Dream, don’t- Don’t kill me I’m sorry please don’t kill me-”

“Kill you? Why would I do that?” Dream’s claws dug a little deeper into his flesh, enough that George could feel small rivulets of blood trickling down his sides, staining the dirt below him.

“I- I ran away, I thought you might- You’re not angry I tried to run? I thought you’d kill me if you caught me, I- I don’t- I’m sorry, please, please Dream.”

“Oh I’m very angry Georgie, you could have gotten hurt, and then what would I have done? I told you, you’re safe at home where I can protect you. Running away was a very silly thing to do,” He shifted, not digging his claws into George quite so much, but keeping a bruising grip around his body as he lifted him off the ground, dangling him in a way that George could see every single one of Dream’s sharp teeth as he spoke. “But I’m not going to kill you. I’d never do that darling, I’d never hurt my mate like that.”

“But…” _You’re hurting me right now,_ a little voice in his head tried to say. It went unspoken. Dream wasn’t going to kill him? He had been fully expecting to be torn to shreds as soon as Dream hunted him down; punishment for even thinking of trying to escape. Why did he think he even stood a chance in the first place?

_You didn’t even need to run,_ a different voice said. _You didn’t really want to escape, did you?_

The thoughts felt so cold, cold like the loneliness and the empty forest around him and the sweat on his skin. Cold like the absence of Dream. _You’re slipping again._ George remembered with an icy shock the reason he’d tried to escape in the first place, and with a rush of panic, he struggled in the monster’s grip again. Dream’s eyes narrowed in response, and in an instant George had a tentacle wrapped tightly around his neck, Dream pulling him in closer and placing his other hand on the back of George’s head to shove his face against Dream’s neck, far less gentle in his treatment now than he’d been before.

“Breathe in for me darling?” It wasn’t a question, and as the tentacle squeezed around his throat, George knew he wasn’t being given an option either. He gave in and inhaled the drugged air.

He remembered the scent; it was the familiar mix of honeysuckle and fruit, rich and sweet, as intoxicating and addictive as it had been the very first time he’d smelled it. It seemed far stronger this time, and as it swirled in his lungs George felt the rush of heat through his body hit him like a tsunami, intense arousal crashing over him and drowning him in desperate need that clung to him like honey, burning syrup in his veins. A choked whine slipped from his lips, and he tried to reach out to draw himself closer against Dream’s body, only to be roughly yanked away again, his arms bound together by another tentacle and forced down behind his back, pulling on his shoulders. The one still around his neck stopped squeezing, but remained tight enough to be an uncomfortable reminder not to struggle again as Dream slung George over his shoulder and onto his back, leaving him disoriented and dizzy with arousal, rendered immobile by more of the snake-like appendages curling up to wrap around his body and bind him there.

“We’re going home now Georgie, okay? I’ll punish you there.”

George nodded weakly with his face pressed against the soft fur of Dream’s back, neither feeling able to nor trusting himself to respond verbally. At least this was more comfortable, more comforting, warmer, than lying and bleeding into the cold dirt ground. That’s what it kept coming down to, wasn’t it? The comfort, the warmth, the closeness to his captor. That’s why he kept slipping, that’s why he hadn’t managed to escape; the temptation to give in for good, to accept everything given to him and to enjoy Dream’s gentle touches and constant praise, that temptation was set in his mind, not budging no matter how much he tried to drive it out.

Dream turned back and set off in what George guessed was the direction of the ruins. He hadn’t exactly taken much notice of exactly which way he was running while trying to escape, but Dream clearly wasn’t lost, taking a very sure path through the woods, dropping onto all fours to run faster, leaping over rock formations and launching himself off trees at a pace that left George breathless, wishing he could hold on to Dream for extra security, fear thrumming through his blood alongside the still-overwhelming lust.

George wasn’t sure how long it took, his brain too fogged over with a haze of sweet green, but eventually he saw the ruined temple come into view over Dream’s shoulder, crumbling stone archways peeking through the dense foliage. George tried not to cry with relief at the sight of familiarity.

_Home,_ his traitorous brain supplied.

Dream ducked through the doorway and made his way to the centre of the room, dropping off the ledge down into the pit that led to the dusky shade of the underground floor below. George relaxed into the warm relief of being in familiar surroundings, then abruptly tensed up again as he felt the tentacles wrapped around him withdraw, being replaced by Dream’s hand and claws once more, his hold no more gentle now than when he’d caught him. He dragged George off his back and dropped him onto the stone floor, the cold slabs an almost soothing contrast to the searing heat of George’s skin. Dream wasted no time in pinning the helpless man down again, bruising grip on his chest and stomach pressing his back into the unforgiving stone.

George shivered, trying to squeeze his thighs together as he felt slick leak from his hole, unable to stop his body from reacting to the heat coursing through him and the way Dream was manhandling him around with little of the same care he’d shown him before. Dream was treating George more roughly than he ever had, and while George missed the gentle caresses and sweet praise, in his haze the barely-held back strength in Dream’s more aggressive movements was sparking that fire deep in his belly, smoke seeping through his syrup veins.

Dream kept George pinned easily with one hand on his torso, his other hand dragging its claws down George’s trembling body, leaving angry red trails across smooth expanses of pale skin until it reached his thighs, forcing them apart and holding them there. Cool air hit George’s hot, slick hole almost immediately and he whimpered, trying to lift his hips up towards Dream, silently begging. The heat and haze had clouded his mind almost completely by this point, rational thought replaced by the desperate, primal need to be filled. Dream hummed, “You’re so pretty Georgie, it’s a shame you had to misbehave.”

A tentacle shoved itself inside his slick hole, sliding in with little resistance and stretching him open so fast the moan that escaped him sounded more like a choke or a sob, a discordant sound somewhere between satisfaction and pain. He was being filled, the tentacle was thrusting in and out of him quickly, forcing him further open, but still he wasn’t sated, the prospect of more taunting his lust-addled mind.

Dream withdrew the tentacle then, still not looking directly at George, but rather at his dripping hole. “I think you’re ready for my cock, aren’t you Georgie? I’m sure if you weren’t so keen for it, you would have thought for a bit longer before trying to run from me, wouldn’t you?” He finally made eye contact with George, an unsettling smile present on his face. “I know you didn’t mean it, darling. That’s why you’re going to accept your punishment like a good boy.”

Something within George still protested. _No!_ It cried out desperately. _You don’t want it, it’s going to hurt, it’s going to-_

It didn’t matter what it said.

Dream’s grip on George tightened, claws scratching bleeding lines into his skin as Dream lined himself up and pushed in roughly, ignoring the way George’s mouth fell open in a scream, one that trailed off into a hoarse moan. He was nowhere near as careful as he had been the last time he pressed inside George, all his gentleness and caution traded in for thinly-veiled anger and frustration, forcing his cock even deeper than before, stretching George tightly around him, filling him an inch at a time with no break to let him rest. It was dizzying, it was painful, it left George both wishing it would stop and begging it to continue, to punish him properly for his mistakes.

More than anything, he wanted Dream to reassure him, to comfort him, to even just look at him the same way he looked at him before he made the stupid, stupid mistake of trying to escape. Why did he ever think he could run away? He should have known he couldn’t be away from Dream for long, and now Dream was upset with him. It hurt more than the rough treatment, the claws dragging down his sides or the giant cock stretching him open. It hurt more than the physical pain of transformation, it hurt more than the thorns that scraped at his feet as he ran through the forest. It hurt more than any of that. It shouldn’t; he knew deep within him that he shouldn’t be craving the attention and comfort of a monster keeping him captive. But he did, and the lack of it hurt.

“Dream,” He pleaded, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

No response. Dream stopped pushing inside, halting his movement with his cock buried deep in George’s ass, his knot perhaps only an inch away from pressing against George’s rim. He stayed there, not moving. Was he waiting for George to continue?

“Please Dream, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have- I didn’t want to escape, I never wanted to escape. I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry, Dream please-” He was rambling, half-delirious, his thoughts stumbling over themselves and tripping out of his mouth. He was thinking too hard. He wanted so badly to not think.

Dream hummed, a growl rumbling slightly in the back of his throat; he dragged his cock out until only the tip was left inside George, then slammed back in deep at a pace that knocked the breath out of the man as his slick hole was stretched wide again. The agony of it was exquisite. “You’re sorry, Georgie? You’re sorry for running away and making me worry?” His claws dug in again, crimson trails carving through George’s skin, jerking and shifting with each rough thrust Dream gave. “Were you just scared? I know you wouldn’t do such a silly thing normally, you’re a good boy.”

“Yes! Yes, I was just… I was scared, Dream, I was confused, I- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry!”

“Look at me.”

George looked up, blinking tears out of his vision as he finally made eye contact with Dream, who gave a smile so soft it seemed out of place among the scene of growls, of claws and dripping blood and stinging red trails across George’s skin, of thrusts so rough he was left breathless. Dream’s eyes were just as beautiful and mesmerising as he remembered them, swirling green and speckled with stars, and although some more rational part of George begged him to look away, to keep his clear head, he pushed that part of him down, leaving it to retreat as the rest of his thoughts faded under Dream’s gaze. He didn’t _want_ to think for himself, not now. He threw himself into the blissful thoughtlessness; he embraced the deep relaxation, the floatiness, the peace that came with an empty head.

“There you are darling. Do you feel good now?” Dream’s thrusts didn’t slow, his claws didn’t withdraw from George’s skin, and George didn’t care. He couldn’t.

“Mhm…”

“Good boy. I was so worried when you ran away, what happened to all the lovely things you told me last time I opened you up on my cock and held you close? Don’t you remember what you said?”

George shook his head, confused and quietly upset with himself for forgetting what he might have confessed to Dream, but unable to recall anything within his empty, foggy head, wispy threads of sleepiness curling through his mind like smoke.

Dream leaned down, his tongue briefly flicking out to press against George’s neck before he spoke, his tone deep but soft, carrying both a threat and a certain fondness. “You told me how much you love this, how you love being held close and filled with my cock, how much you love the warmth,” His pace was still brutal, punctuating each of his words by slamming deep inside George, all the way to the top of his knot. George found himself wishing that Dream would push even deeper, force him down onto his knot and fill him entirely, but he never did. His fucking was relentless, harsh and barely restrained, but he held back from breaking George completely. “You told me you love feeling wanted.”

Hazy recollections stirred somewhere in George’s head. Yes, he had said those things, hadn’t he? He had said them, and they were true. “Mm, I- Yeah… I do love that, Dream, I- Ah! I do...”

“But you still tried to run Georgie.”

“M’ sorry Dream…” He felt like crying again.

“I know you are. It was just a mistake, wasn’t it darling? After all,” He growled, a noise matching more with his movements than his sweet words, and delivered a particularly hard thrust that made George moan loudly, arching his back as much as Dream’s grip would allow. “Where would you even go? You think the humans would let you into their villages?” His teeth looked sharper than ever as he grinned and nodded towards George’s tail, which at some point had reached up to curl itself around Dream’s arm, the one that kept him pinned down. “You’re not one of them anymore.”

The words barely filtered through to George’s brain, fogged over with sweetness and stars and swirls of green. “I’m- I’m not-”

“You’re not human anymore, are you darling? They might hurt you,” The grunts and growls escaping Dream sounded more feral, outraged at the mere thought of George getting hurt. “They might _kill_ you. You’re much safer here darling, understand? I can protect you, I can kill anyone who even tries to lay a finger on you. You’re _mine._ ”

He slammed inside George, squeezing his grip around the man’s torso, and George practically screamed as Dream hit his prostate dead on.

“I’m yours! Dream please, I’m yours, only yours!” He was babbling, letting the words spill directly from his head, empty but for stars and swirls and thoughts of Dream. “Please, I want- I want…”

“Tell me what you want Georgie. You don’t want to run again, do you?”

“No! I- AH! Mm- I don’t- I don’t want to be able to escape again.” He barely even knew what he was saying. He wasn’t thinking, and it was heavenly. 

“You want me to stop you from escaping again, darling?”

“Mhm… Want to stay here, want you to mm- m-make sure I can’t, _Hahh-_ Can’t even try to run again,” If he had been able to think, that rational part of him that kept clamouring to escape might have screamed that he was begging for his own captivity. “Please Dream.”

Dream tilted his head curiously, slowing down a little and smiling. George flicked his eyes over to the familiar tentacle that emerged from Dream’s back, the one that fed him the strange goo until his humanity ebbed away. He looked back to Dream, his eyes lidded with lust and faux sleepiness, and tilted his head in a similar way.

Dream chuckled softly. “Open your mouth like a good boy Georgie, you know what to do. You don’t even need to think about it.”

He didn’t, did he? He didn’t need to think, not when Dream was telling him what to do and praising him for it. He was a good boy.

He opened his mouth and eagerly sucked on the tentacle as soon as it slid inside.

The familiarity of it all was comforting, the comfort that he’d been craving since he scrambled up those vines and ran from the temple. His mouth and throat were filled, he was being turned further, and Dream was pounding in and out of him with a ferocity George had secretly been hoping for, hitting his spot with every other thrust. George was in heaven, sinking deep into quicksand, his mind blank and his senses on fire, honey-sweet and hazy, flowers and flames and blissful intimacy. Distantly, he could feel his hands tingling, but that feeling was quickly buried as Dream slammed into him at the same time as he finally, _finally_ moved a finger to brush against George’s neglected cock. His muffled scream turned into a moan around the tentacle filling his mouth, and he writhed desperately, not noticing or caring as the movement made Dream’s claws dig into his sides and blood drip slowly down onto the stone floor, staining the cracks with crimson.

“You’re so beautiful darling, so good,” Dream’s voice sounded distant, distorted like he was speaking through water, but George could hear him as clearly as if he’d whispered in his ear. Perhaps he had. George wouldn’t know. “I’ll always protect you, you know that. _I love you_ Georgie, cum for me.”

And that was all it took for George to topple over the edge, dropping into the ocean and letting the waves crash over him, his back arching and his body trembling violently without him even being aware of it, too far gone, too far fallen, overwhelmed by pleasure sharp and pain sickly sweet. His orgasm tore through him like lightning, fast and powerful, and dark spots danced over his vision as white streaks coated his stomach. The last thing he saw was Dream, smiling and stroking his hair as he roughly fucked him through it, before consciousness slipped from his fingertips and George willingly let it go, blacking out with pleasure still coursing along his nerves.

He came round slowly, dragging his limbs back to reality like mud, cracking his eyes open to see himself pressed against soft brown fur. It took him a moment to register that his mouth was empty, the tentacle having finished its job and withdrawn, and Dream had pulled out too, though not without leaving his hole dripping with a mixture of slick and cum. The beast had gathered George up in his arms, picked him up off the cold stone floor, and was now cradling him close to his body, gently brushing his fingers over the stinging claw marks on George’s skin and nuzzling his neck, licking away blood and sweat. It might have been gross, but George neither noticed nor cared, not with his head still fuzzy and his body heavy, sleepiness soaking through his empty head and settling in his bones.

“Hello darling. You’re okay, see? You’re with me, you’re safe.” Dream’s voice was soft, and George sank into it like a bed of feathers.

“Mmm… Hi Dream…” George blinked up at the beast, smiling sleepily and reaching up to wrap his arms around Dream’s neck to cuddle closer. He stopped abruptly when his hands came into view, staring at them while trying to process what had happened with his hazy mind. His hands were now covered in a layer of short fur starting halfway up his forearms, its shade matching that on his tail, and his five fingers had been replaced by four larger digits, thick and unwieldy and tipped with tiny claws. He moved them experimentally, curling them down into his palm and balling his hands into fists. It was obvious that he had nowhere near the same level of dexterity as he had before; his new paws were clumsy and would be difficult to get used to, useless in comparison to hands.

Dream chuckled at George’s discovery. “You like them? You won’t be able to climb out with your hands like that. You’re safe now darling, you can’t make such a silly mistake again. And look,” He shifted George’s weight in his arms so he could hold one of his own gigantic hands up against George’s new paw, the action steady and tender. “They look like mine, see?”

They did. Dream’s were much bigger and clearly more useful, with longer fingers and sharper claws, but the similarity was enough to make George’s chest flutter with something light and soft, something that might have scared him if he had been in his right mind. But that little rational voice inside him had gone quiet, buried down at the back of an empty head, lost underneath swirls and stars and sweet satisfaction. It wasn’t there to chastise him for enjoying the helplessness, the dependency on Dream, and the fact that he had _begged for it._

Dream closed his hand around George’s, gentle and fond, and carried him over to his bed. _Their bed?_ He placed George down onto the straw and leaves, not letting go of him for a second; he then laid down himself, curling his body around George, wrapping him in his strong arms and tail, pulling him against his chest. George hummed in contentment, snuggling into Dream, sore but sated, mind blank and body heavy with smooth, sleepy pleasure. He felt safe here, secure and protected, enveloped in warmth. Why did he ever try to leave this behind?

Dream’s chest rumbled against him, his voice coming out hushed and smooth into George’s ear, lulling him into sleep. “I know you’re sorry for trying to run, you’re such a good boy. You don’t need to worry about that anymore, I’ll take good care of you,” He smiled as he felt George relax and go limp against him, nuzzling him softly. “Sleep well Georgie.”


End file.
